


Honey Cakes

by johnsredpants, MoonShineD, StraightShooter (MsLadySmith)



Series: Three's Good Company [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pub Crawl, SMUFFY, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnsredpants/pseuds/johnsredpants, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonShineD/pseuds/MoonShineD, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLadySmith/pseuds/StraightShooter
Summary: A piece of PWP roleplay smut, set in the same universe as others in this series.John is away at a conference, so Greg and Sherlock find a way to keep themselves occupied.Lots of hilarity, smut, and some fluff.Please read the tags.CastSherlock…………MoonShineDGreg…………...…StraightShooter (MsLadySmith)John……….....…..JohnsRedPants





	1. Chapter 1

**Greg:**  
 _Text to Sherlock_ **-** Hey - why don't you meet me at the pub in an hour?

 **Sherlock:**  
 _Text to Geoff **-**_ why? Do you have a case?

 **Greg:**  
 _Text to Sherlock_ **-** No case. Just a night out. John usually comes with me, but I thought you might like to do it, for once.

 **Sherlock:**  
 _Text to Gary_ **-** so I'm a John fill in?

 **Greg:**  
 _Text to Sherlock_ **-** If you don't want to spend time with me, just say so, Sherlock...

 **Sherlock:**  
 _Text to Gavin_ **-** don't be daft. I was asking so I knew if I was supposed to dress like John.

 **Greg:**  
 _Text to Sherlock_  - Dress like you. See you in an hour at the pub.

 **Sherlock:**  
I arrive to the pub wearing form fitting black slacks and the DIs favorite green shirt. My collar is unbuttoned a bit and my hair in what he refers to as my "I want to fuck you curls".

 **Greg:**  
"Hey, Sherlock!" I grin, shoving a pint toward him as he takes a seat across from me in the booth. "Hungry?"

 **Sherlock:**  
"What's on the menu?" It's a bit not good, I've been told multiple times, to express affection to Greg in public. No one has told me I can't flirt. That wouldn't stop me and my men know better than to give me tasks I would have to fail.

 **Greg:**  
"John's not going to be back from that medical conference until Saturday, right?" I didn't keep my calendar quite as up-to-date as I should, though neither of them left town without me very often. I point to the menu. "The chips here are pretty good, if you want something to eat." I finish my first pint, and order another.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Not hungry." I take a look at the basket of grease with a few pieces of potato swimming in it. "Whiskey."

 **Greg:**  
I wave down the cute little blonde waitress and order a whisky for Sherlock. "How have you been keeping busy this week, all alone in that flat?" I said quietly, reaching my toe over and rubbing his ankle, an innocent look on my face.

 **Sherlock:**  
"I've done a few experiments John would normally not allow. Which reminds me we'll have to finish this night at your place. One of my bladders may have had an unexpected reaction to boric acid. I've cleaned it up but the smell..." How was I to know Molly would give me a still full bladder?

 **Greg:**  
The bubbly blonde waitress brings two whiskys for us - telling me mine is 'on the house' with an air-kiss and a wink - and takes away the empty chips basket. "You'll have to make sure that gets cleaned up before he comes home, you know..."

 **Sherlock:**  
I quickly down Greg's whiskey then start to sip my own. "She has at least two STIs and planned on using you just to make her girlfriend jealous." In reality she seemed a decent gal working her way through Law School by waiting tables, probably less than two lovers, all clean. I lean back so that his toes have more room to travel. "Your week appears to have been dull enough since you didn't contact me for cases. Are the criminals getting dumber or has my deductive skills finally start to rub off on you?"

 **Greg:**  
I watch with surprise as he shoots my glass of whisky and starts on his own. "She's a cute kid, Sherlock. It doesn't mean anything..." I mumble. It's flattering for such a cute young thing to take an interest in me, even if I have no interest in her - my men fill all my needs in that department. "It has been a slow week. I'm actually almost caught up on paperwork, even. If things stay quiet, I might be able to start going through cold cases with you next week, if you're interested." I slipped off my shoe, rubbing my toes farther up his leg.

 **Sherlock:  
** "It wouldn't be the worst way to pass the time..." The waitress passes by our table again and almost stops before I wave her away. "We're done here." I stand up and throw a few bills on the table. "Let’s find a place without a 20-year-old girl," heavy emphasis on girl, "who's young enough to be your daughter throwing herself all over you."

 **Greg:**  
I sigh. "But I like this pub... where do you suggest, then?" I grumble. Sherlock never has been the pub-crawling sort, but maybe John has given him some ideas recently.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Any. Where. But. Here." I lay my hands on the table and lean in so only he can hear me. "Unless it's her you plan on taking home, I highly suggest," command, "we leave this place."

 **Greg:**  
"She's just a kid, Sherlock... believe me when I say she doesn't interest me in the least..." I whisper back, but I down the rest of my pint, and get up to leave. Sherlock follows close behind me as I wave to the bartender - who is slightly confused, because I never leave this early on Thursday nights - and head out the door. I shove my hands in my pockets grumpily. "So where to, Sherlock? Got somewhere in particular in mind?"

 **Sherlock:**  
As soon as we get to the alley entrance I grab him by the hand and twirl him until his back is against the wall. "You are MY DI. You are not for anyone else to look at, lust for, or even 'innocently' touch." I press against him tightly while tipping his jaw up. I do my best to devour his mouth with my tongue before I pull away and straighten my Belstaff. "Kings Bar," I tell him as we leave the alley.

 **Greg:**  
I let out a surprised squawk when Sherlock grabbed me and shoved me up against the wall in the alley, kissing me breathless. I chase after him as he walks with determination down the street. "Sherlock, hold up a sec." I grab his shoulder, spinning him to a stop. "I'm your DI. I'm John's DI. There's no one but you two. But for Christ's sake... there's nothing wrong with someone flirting with me... you're reminding me of my ex, mate..."

 **Sherlock:  
** I stop cold at his words. "I... I... Uh..." I review my recent behavior and compare it to that I knew of his ex's. "You are correct. I hadn't realized..." How could I have been to unaware of my actions? Feeling are not my forte but actions I am usually keenly aware of. "I'm... It won't happen again." I wonder if I should offer to leave him alone. My head knows he wants no one but John and I. My heart, not so much. "Of course, you are free to look at others, free to fantasize and flirt. It's not you I don't trust.”

 **Greg:  
** I shake my head. "I wasn't the one flirting. Most people take it as a compliment when someone finds their partner attractive, you know." I nudged his shoulder. "So, where's this Kings Bar we're heading for? I don't know about you, but I could use another drink."

 **Sherlock:  
** "It is a compliment but I don't know how to respond to it." I make a quickly aborted attempt at taking his hand but that’s not something we do in public. I wish I could do something to show him my regret at making him feel like an object. "I've changed my mind. Let’s go to the Back Room instead."

 **Greg:  
** I raise an eyebrow. "All right. Let's go, then." I turn to hail a cab; luckily, one stops pretty quickly. Sherlock and I climb into the back of the cab, I give the cabbie the address, and we head off into London traffic. I rest my hand lightly on Sherlock's thigh, my thumb drawing small circles on his tight black pants.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sherlock:**  
I look at Greg's hand on my leg surprised that he still wants to be with me after my behavior. "I did a case for the owner of this bar.  He informed me all my drinks are free as well as use of any of the pub's various secluded rooms."

 **Greg:**  
I glance up at the cabbie, who is (appropriately) paying strict attention to the road and his nav system, and not his passengers. I lean over to Sherlock, and murmur in his ear, "Sounds like it could be an interesting evening, then," punctuating my sentence with a quick lick of his ear lobe, pulling away quickly.

 **Sherlock:**  
My hand goes on top of his and pulls it higher up my leg til it he can feel my erection. "Your tongue is evil." He’s quite aware how sensitive my ears and neck are. "Be careful Gregory," my voice drop in volume and timber, "you don't want to start something that I will be unable to wait til we're back at your flat to finish."

 **Greg:**  
I pout dramatically. "I have to wait to get back to my flat? Well, that sounds boring..." The cab finally stops in front of the Back Room. I hand him a few bills and climb out, Sherlock following along. We walk into the bar together, getting seated at a table near the back. I nod to the waiter - an older man, I realize with a smirk - and order two whiskys.

 **Sherlock:**  
My eyes sparkle at Gregory’s mischievous grin. "I would prefer to not wait until we get to your flat." Sitting next to each other gives me the opportunity to put my hand on his thigh. "I'd prefer not to wait at all."

 **Greg:**  
The waiter brings our drinks. We each take a glass. "To patience," I raise my glass with a wink. Our glasses clink together, and each of us downs our drink in one swallow. I reach down and lay my hand on Sherlock's as he inches up my thigh. "Not here... didn't you say something about private rooms in this place?

 **Sherlock:**  
I motion to the waiter to bring two more drinks. I stand up and pull him along until I found a mostly secluded alcove. "Will here work, or do you require a room?" I start to undo his trousers and I push up his shirt in the back and scratch the skin lightly with my nails.

 **Greg:**  
I shudder as he drags his fingernails up my spine. "Sherlock," I protest weakly, leaning back against the wall, pulling him in for a rough kiss as he reaches into my pants and wraps his hand around my erection.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Yes. Was that a no?" I pull my hand back out and make a show out of licking the palm before reaching pack into his trousers.

My other hand grabs a handful of his arse. "I plan on fucking you tonight but for now this will do."

 **Greg:**  
I wrap my fingers into those luscious curls of his as he starts stroking me. I lean hard against the wall, my knees turning to jelly. "God, Sherlock," I mumble against his lips as I pull his lips to mine again, chewing on his lower lip as I moan and thrust against his hand.

The semi-public nature of what we're doing is an incredible turn-on for me... the risk of getting caught almost intoxicating.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Not God. Just Sherlock is fine." I use his precum to lube my hand and stroke him tighter. I put two of the fingers of my other hand near his mouth. "Suck." I command.

 **Greg:**  
I lunge forward and suck his fingers into my mouth like a starving man, swirling my tongue around and between them.

 **Sherlock:**  
I replace my fingers with my mouth. My hand goes into the backside of his slacks. I place my fingers on the cleft of his arse and start pushing them down towards his opening. Once there I swirl one of my dampened digits on his pucker and press in slightly. "We should've gotten a room so I could be sucking you right now."

 **Greg:**  
His voice in my ear makes me shiver and I groan against his lips as he uses his hands to drive me over the edge surprisingly quickly, spilling over his hand. I grab his wrist hard, holding his hand still. He chuckles darkly, and I blush. "And you said my tongue is evil... your hands should be registered weapons..." I lean in and kiss him breathlessly as I lean limply against the wall. Pulling his hand out of my pants, I bring it to my mouth and gently lick and suck my cum off his fingers as our eyes lock. I clean myself as best I can with a handkerchief, and pull my clothing back together, leading him back to our table where our glasses of whisky are waiting.

 **Sherlock:**  
I down my glass as quick as Greg does and order another two. The waiter tells us we were not as secluded as we believed. A few men have made monetary offers if we would be willing to continue. "It may be time to find another place to drink."

 **Greg:**  
"Yeah, maybe." I'm more than a little wobbly, and I can tell that Sherlock is feeling the liquor, too. Maybe we can manage one more bar tonight... "Let's go." I get up and walk out of the bar, ignoring the eyes following us as I hail a cab and we get in. Sherlock leans on my shoulder as I give the cabbie another address. I run my hand up his thigh quietly as the scenery passes by.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Where are we going now?" I rub my hand on my crotch and lick my lips. "Somewhere that I can feel your mouth on my dick would be optimistic... No. Optimum... Optimal! Yes, that’s it. Some place you could suck my dick would be oPtimal."

 **Greg:**  
I give his thigh a squeeze as the cab pulls up to the kerb, tossing some bills to the cabbie and leading Sherlock out. Much to his surprise, I grab his hand tightly as I walk up to the door of the bar, leaning in to talk quietly to the man there, who immediately directs us inside. The waiter inside takes us to a secluded section of the bar and brings us drinks. I whisper into Sherlock's ear, "They don't have private rooms here, but we won't be seen or disturbed in this little corner. The bouncer owes me a couple favors..."

 **Sherlock:**  
"Big favor I hope." I fail to notice a waitress as she drops off two pints due to looking at Greg's mouth. "Big enough favor that I could get that mouth of yours on me in the near future." The lager is a refreshing change from the copious amounts of whiskey I've imbibed tonight.

 **Greg:**  
I give him a wicked grin. "Notice that the VIP section - where we're sitting - is completely empty? No one on the dance floor even knows we're up here..." I wink as I slide to my knees in front of him, smoothing my hands up his thighs and over his erection as I start undoing his trousers.

 **Sherlock:**  
I push my hips forward to help hip pull my trousers off and pants down. That's when he sees the new boxers I'm wearing with little otters on them. "Don’t laugh, kit. I got you a pair with foxes on them." Before he has a chance to get his mouth on me, I bend down and pull him up so that I could kiss him again. "You taste like whiskey and lager and sin."

 **Greg:**  
"I could say the same for you, cub," I mumbled against his neck, settling back down on my heels to softly lap at his cock. I look up at him, briefly. "I would recommend keeping your voice down, of course... wouldn't want to attract attention now, would we?" I grin, licking a stripe up his hot flesh.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Mmmm you deserve all the attention. I want people to see this. See how you look with that sinful tongue licking stripes up my shaft. See how beautiful you are..." Now I understand what he meant earlier when he said having others attracted to your lover is a compliment.

 **Greg:**  
"Right now, cub... I only want your attention." I swirl my tongue around his head before he can answer me, his intended response becoming gibberish as I take him into my mouth. His fingers curl into my short hair as I suck him down, my lips meeting my hand as I stroke him.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Fuck. Kit. That's so good." I watch as he takes more and more of me into his mouth. His hand a snug fist going counter point to his sucking. He pulls off and let's some drool slip down his tongue where he's twirling it over my head. The added saliva makes the friction even more pleasurable. "M'not gonna last kit. Too good." I have to will my hips to stay put so I don't choke him with how deep he's taking me.

 **Greg:**  
His breaths are coming hard and fast as I work him with my mouth, finally sliding my hand away and taking him all the way into my throat in one swift movement.

 **Sherlock:**  
His lips meet my pubic bone and I moan long and loud at the sensation of being fully seated in his mouth. I feel his throat convulsing around my head as he swallows. The alcohol has loosened my inhibitions to the point that I can't contain my praise or keep my breathing low. "Kit! I'm going to cum. Gah. So. Damn. Good." With a single buck of my hips I flood his mouth with my cum. My whole body has gone loose and languid.

 **Greg:**  
I suck and swallow vigorously as he cums down my throat, not backing off him until his hand finally releases his grip in my hair. I slide back up next to him on the bench and kiss him lightly, my eyes shining in mischievous glee.

 **Sherlock:**  
"You," I kiss his neck, "are," a kiss to his cheek, "a," kiss to his forehead, "perfect," kiss to his lips, ".... date." After my last word I kiss the tip of his nose and start to laugh a bit.

 **Greg:**  
I chuckle. "I do try, cub. Finish your lager," I nudge the glass toward him as I pick up my own and drain it. I lean back with a contented look, putting my feet up on the short table in front of us.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Should I be taking notes?" We are both quite relaxed, quite happy, and quite drunk. I almost knock him off the booth as I jump up. "Bees! Honey! I want honey cakes." I grab his hand and start to drag him out of the room mumbling about bees and honey cakes.

 **Greg:**  
"Slow down, 'Lock!" I shout at him as he drags me out of the bar and to the street.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Can’t. We have a place to be!!" Mrs Hudders recently made honey cakes and I know where to find them.

 **Greg:**  
After much giggling, we finally hail a cab, and have it take us back to 221 Baker Street. We pay the cabbie far too much money, and stumble out of the cab, walk in the front door. I shrug off my jacket and hang it on the hook in the hall (only took two tries to get it to stay there) and take a seat on the steps.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sherlock:**  
We get back to a pungent 221 and the first thing I see is a note from Hudders demanding the smell be gone by her return on Saturday "or no more biscuits!" I set it aside in order to open her flat and grab a few of the honey cakes I smelled cooking earlier.

 **Greg:**  
"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you just pick that lock, cub," I scolded playfully. "What are you doing in Mrs. Hudson's flat, anyway?" I lean back on my elbows on the stairs, more than a little drunk at this point.

 **Sherlock:**  
"I told you. Honey. Cakes!" I disappear for a brief moment before coming back with a cloth bag. "Got them!" I open the bag and grab two of them. "Here. Eat!" I practically shove the piece into his mouth as I devour my own.

 **Greg:**  
I bite down quickly on the honey cake as he shoves it in my mouth, if only to keep him from choking me with it. "Hey, these are pretty good." I'm only half-finished with mine as he sits down next to me, licking crumbs from his fingers.

 **Sherlock:**  
I grab a few more and cakes before I toss Gregory his jacket. "This place smells like someone pissed everywhere. Let's go to your flat." I put another cake in my mouth and toss one to him.

 **Greg:**  
I haul myself up off the stairs, and we stumble back outside. Unfortunately, the cabbie took his money and drove off, and the street was pretty quiet at this hour - no chance we'll be lucky enough to find another one nearby. I look around, and point off in what I think is the direction of my flat - things look different at night, after all. "This way!" I grab Sherlock's wrist and head in that direction, popping the other honey cake into my mouth as I walk.

 **Sherlock:**  
Before we leave the flat I attempt to kiss him seductively but it turns out more messy and filthy than seductive. "Let's go." I put the two remaining cakes in the pocket of my jacket. "The game is... It's a..." I shake my head in an attempt to think more clearly. "On! The game is on."

 **Greg:**  
"Those honey cakes were really good, Sherlock... I'll have to ask Mrs. Hudson for the recipe." I giggle as we walk down the sidewalk in a semi-straight line. I lean on Sherlock's arm a little more than is usual.

 **Sherlock:**  
"The bestest. Weird after taste, though. She probably used inferior store brand. If she'd just let me have a bee hive on the roof, I could give her all the honey to make more of these cakes." I pull the last two cakes from my pocket and wave Greg's in his face trying to find his mouth but it keeps moving. "Stay still ya git." I say in a great John-like voice.

 **Greg:**  
I reach up and grab Sherlock's waving wrist with both hands, bringing the honey cake to my mouth and sinking my teeth into it.

"I see what you mean about the aftertaste. Don't think it's the honey, though... it's something else..."

 **Sherlock:**  
As he finishes off the treat he licks and nibbles the fingers I was using to push the cake into his mouth. "Not here," I say regretfully. I can hear John's voice in my head saying something about not doing this outside. What or why I don't remember.

 **Greg:**  
I suck one of his fingers into my mouth. "It's 3am... who's gonna see?" I chuckle.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Good point Lestrade." His name sounds funny when you really listen to it. "Lesstraahhhhed. Less. Trawwed. Lessss." He silences me with a kiss.

 **Greg:**  
Sherlock is talking gibberish. I push him up against the brick wall in the nearest alleyway and silence him by covering his mouth with my own. A moment later, I take a step back and look around. "This doesn't look right..." I look around the area, confused... there shouldn't be an alleyway here...

 **Sherlock:**  
Looking around I realize Greg is right. "Who put in an alley?? There shouldn't be an alley here." I step into the street to look at the signs and see we are on the corner of Tolkien and Doyle Streets. "Where have you taken us to?"

 **Greg:**  
I panic slightly. "I.... I have no idea, Sherlock..." I step out of the alleyway into the street, trying to make out any building, any landmark I might recognize. Or, failing that, to find a cab.

 **Sherlock:**  
I reach out my arm to call for a taxi. "CAB!" I yell out but no taxi appears. I turn the other direction and try again. "TAXI!" It's still not working. "I think all the cabs are broken."

 **Greg:**  
"We obviously need to find a busier street... something with cars on it." I grab Sherlock's collar and haul him along behind me, heading toward a corner where I can see street lights.

 **Sherlock:**  
Once we get to a more used route I notice something better than any taxi. A large neon sign saying "Dezzert 24/7" is flashing just a few blocks away. I grab Greg's hand and tell him we have a new destination. "Look. It's one of those new bars that has treats on conveyor belts."

 **Greg:**  
I look at where Sherlock is heading. "I could really go for some cheesecake right now..."

 **Sherlock:**  
"Yes! And ice cream and brownies and tiramisu..." I drag him towards Just Dezzerts.

 **Greg:**  
The restaurant is pretty empty - just a few other people seem to have a craving for sweets at this hour. Normally, I wouldn't, either, come to think of it...

 **Sherlock:**  
With the amount of people, mostly homeless or high, in the building I can tell it's quite popular but not at this time of night. "Everything is at least 18 hours old." I can tell by the dryness of the cakes. "Probably why it's happy hour now."

 **Greg:**  
I wander over to an empty booth, dragging Sherlock along. Taking a seat, I reach over and grab a sad-looking piece of cheesecake off the belt. I stab it with my fork, and hold the fork out for Sherlock. "Wanna taste?"

 **Sherlock:**  
Instead of a verbal answer I lean over and eat it right off his fork. "Mmm good enough but you're better." I grab a piece of lopsided tiramisu.

 **Greg:**  
I take a bite of the cheesecake. "It's not half-bad, you're right." I look at the tiramisu in front of him hungrily.

 **Sherlock:**  
I take my second bite before I ask Greg if he wants any. At his nod I take a small spoonful of the sweet dessert and rub it across my lips.

 **Greg:**  
I raise an eyebrow. "Really?" I say, with a silly grin. I quickly lean across the table, grab his collar, and pull him forward, kissing the dessert off his lips. "Mmmm. Gotta say, I've had better." My eyes twinkle mischievously.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Yes, well, you've also had worse." Pfft I finish my piece and grab a brownie with melting ice cream.

 **Greg:**  
"You should hurry up with that one... the ice cream is melting." I reach over and scoop up some ice cream with my index finger. My eyes never leave Sherlock as I slowly lick the melting treat off my finger, ending by putting my finger in my mouth, sucking the remains of the ice cream off it.

 **Sherlock:**  
I stand up after Greg molests the ice cream. I remove my coat and place on the side of the booth I was sitting at and sit down next to him. "I know something else that you could melt with your mouth." Once the words are out of my mouth I hear how juvenile I sound. Why? I wonder if proximity to a certain not-as-funny-as-he-thinks-he-is doctor is starting to rub off on me.

 **Greg:**  
I start giggling and scoop up another fingerful of ice cream. "Do you, now?" I drag the ice cream across my lower lip with a grin.

 **Sherlock:**  
Instead of stopping at just licking his lips I start to delve into his mouth to taste more of the sweet flavor.

 **Greg:**  
I lean into his kiss with a giggle, tasting a hint of the tiramisu as my tongue explores his mouth. I suddenly have a thought, and push him back a little, softly. "Sherlock... what the hell are we doing?"

 **Sherlock:**  
"Kissing. Isn't it obvious?" Or not kissing since he pushed me away. "Hand me that raspberry pie thingy."

 **Greg:**  
"No, I mean... we're in public... we don't do this in public..." I frowned. John would be pissed...

 **Sherlock:**  
"Oh, for fuck’s sake!" I yell loudly. Gregory shushes me physically. "Mzzs hudzn mstm mmd zpezule zakes." I mumble with his hand over my mouth.

 **Greg:**  
"Special cakes? You mean the honey cakes?" I pale with the realization. "Ah, shit...." That explains so much right now.

 **Sherlock:**  
My head makes a loud crack where it hits the Formica table top. "John's gonna kill me." I groan. "Mrs. Hudson will revive me just so she can kill me herself."

 **Greg:**  
I try to give Sherlock a serious look but can't help but start giggling. "Yeah, Mrs. Hudson's gonna be furious when she finds out you stole her cakes."

 **Sherlock:**  
I start giggling. "I want to be cremated and my ashes spread around the duck ponds."

 **Greg:**  
I throw a few bills on the table and get up to leave. "We need to get back to my flat." I mumble. "I bet we can get a cab outside..."

 **Sherlock:**  
"Wait!" I grab a few more desserts before he succeeds in pulling me out the door.

 **Greg:**  
Outside, I manage to hail a cab and pull Sherlock into it, giving the cabbie my flat address. The cabbie was taken aback "A bit far from home, mate... not gonna be cheap to get ya back..." I wave a handful of bills at him. He nods and puts the car in gear. The drive home took almost 45 minutes. "Damn, cub... we'd never have found our way back..." I mumble. Sherlock looks half-asleep, draped across me and the back seat of the cab. As we pull up to my flat, I run my hand up his inner thigh, and whisper in his ear "Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty" and nip his ear lobe.          

 **Sherlock:**  
"I'm awake!" I get off Greg and we stumble out of the cab. It takes him a few times to finally get the passcode typed in to open the door. I may have made it harder by hugging him from behind and running my hand up and down his lovely arse.

 **Greg:**  
I shush him as I try to concentrate on getting the door open, rather than Sherlock's hands on my arse. Finally, I managed to get the door open, and we practically fell into my flat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sherlock:**  
"Stop shushing me! I'll shush you." I kiss his neck as I lay mostly on top of him.

 **Greg:**  
"Ouch! Sherlock... you've got pointy elbows, mate. And the floor's not all that comfortable, either." I give him a shove, and manage to flip him over onto his back, straddling him and pinning him to the carpet. "Much better," I growl, and descend on his neck.

 **Sherlock:**  
"I'm not bony old man. You're just more padded than me." I grab his arse and thrust up high enough to almost buck him off.

 **Greg:**  
I chuckle, grinding my hips against his. "Oh, I say you're bony. Not that I'm complaining..."

 **Sherlock:**  
"I thought you thought my arse was plump. Here you are calling me bony? Pfft." My tone would be a lot more intimidating if I wasn't still giggling. When I thrust this time I actually manage to knock him off kilter enough to get my foot behind his legs and roll him to his back. "There. Much better."

 **Greg:**  
"You know... there are better things we could be doing than rolling around on my living room floor..." I grin up at him. "And I never said you have a bony arse... you have a plump, luscious, tight arse..." I lick my lower lip slowly.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Yes. Yes I do." I kiss him softly before we help each other up and off the floor. Along the way I feel a squish and hear a squelch sound coming from the pocket of my coat. I reach in and tentatively pull out the remains of what used to be a peach pie.

 **Greg:**  
I watch as Sherlock pulls his hand out of his pocket in horror, bit of peach pie filling and crust dripping off his fingers. My giggles turn into genuine laughter, and his expression moves from disgust at the goopy mess in his pocket to giggling and laughing along with me. "You are probably going to want to have that cleaned tomorrow," I say between giggles, helping him carefully slide the coat off. I hang it up while he heads for the kitchen to wash the pie off his hands.

 **Sherlock:**  
Before reaching the kitchen, I have a great thought. I turn around and see Greg has his back to me. I watch him start to undress. His coat and shirt are soon discarded on the couch. When he leans down to take off his shoes I sneak up behind him and wipe my pie filled hand on his naked back. "You may want to get that clean," I parrot his words back to him. I jump out of his reach before he has a chance to respond.

 **Greg:**  
"Argh!" I jump up as Sherlock smears peach pie filling down my back. I turn and glare at him - ineffectively, because the smile never leaves my eyes. "Are you going to take care of that, cub?" I ask, an eyebrow raised as I stalk toward him.

 **Sherlock:**  
I start to undress as I walk back towards him. "Yes Sir."

 **Greg:**  
As soon as he is within reach, my hand shoots forward and I grab him by the belt buckle, pulling him toward me roughly. "I should hope so..." I grumble, wrapping a hand in his curls and crushing his lips to mine. With a quick twist of my fingers, I unbuckle his belt and strip it off him, then go to work on his silk shirt, slowly opening the remaining buttons one-handed. I pull off his lips for a breath. "Silk suits you, cub... soft... cool..." I smooth both hands over the front of his now-open shirt "but strong..." without unbuttoning the cuffs, I push the shirt off his shoulders and quickly down his arms with a wicked grin.

 **Sherlock:**  
Greg has effectively pinned my arms behind my back when he left the cuffs buttoned. I struggle for a moment. "How am I supposed to help if I can't move my hands?" He stops his giggles and looks at me in realization. Before he has a chance to do anything I have already unbuttoned my shirt and let it drop to the floor. "Speaking of strong..." I bend down and lick a strip up his chest. You're the strong one. John's the good one. I'm the smart one."

 **Greg:**  
"I'm the strong one, eh?" I start walking him backward into my bedroom, alternately kissing his lips and nipping at his bare chest.

 **Sherlock:**  
"You're the heart. Which is an important part. I'm the mind. Also important." I detour him to the loo so we can take a shower.

 **Greg:**  
I reach over and turn on the hot water, and in short order, the room is full of warm, comfortable steam. We each slip off our trousers and pants and climb into the shower. Thankfully, the sticky peach pie filling slowly melts away off my back under the hot spray. I grab a flannel and a bar of soap and lather Sherlock up thoroughly, touching every part of him except his rapidly hardening cock.

 **Sherlock:**  
The smell of peaches and Greg's body wash permeates the steamy air. I place my hands on the shower wall and succumb to his ministrations. "That feels good, kit." I spread my legs a bit so he can reach every spot.

 **Greg:**  
"So... if I'm the heart, and you're the mind... what does that make John?" I rub the soapy flannel over his hips.

 **Sherlock:**  
"He’s the soul. The conductor of light and thought. That thing that connects heart to head." I didn't believe Souls existed before. Or that hearts were a good thing until I gave mine away in two equal parts.

 **Greg:**  
"Mmmhmmm. That sounds right." I pressed my body up against him, nipping at his shoulder blades as I ran the flannel over his arse, down the backs of his thighs, then up his inner thigh, stopping frustratingly short.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Stop teasing me Gregory," I say in what they call The Voice. "Are you going to fuck me or should I take care of myself?" Gauntlet: thrown down.

 **Greg:**  
I shiver at The Voice, and say with a mischievous grin, "Oh, I'm going to fuck you... you're an impatient git..." I toss the flannel to one side, and take his cock in my soapy hand, stroking it slowly, as I press my own erection between his arse cheeks, rubbing against him.

 **Sherlock:**  
"Thank fuck. I thought I'd have to get you drunk all over again." I turn my head and wink at him. Seeing him on the tips of his toes I bend my arse out a little farther and bit closer to the ground.

 **Greg:**  
"You don't have to get me drunk first, you know..." I nip at his ear. I smooth my free hand over his soapy arse, sliding it between his cheeks. Considering for a moment, I grab my bottle of cheap conditioner, spilling some at the top of his arse, following it down over his arsehole with my hand, and nudging a finger into him.

 **Sherlock:**  
Mmm "I don't have to but it's nice to see you relaxed like you usually are with John." I arch my back when he finds my prostate. "It's interesting to see you when you're not in DI mode."

 **Greg:**  
"It's not that I'm relaxed with John," I slip a second finger into him, "so much as he has a natural ability to take charge" I stroke over his prostate firmly, making him squirm, "and I like letting him." I stop stroking his dick and smooth some more of the conditioner over my own, as a third finger finds its way into him, twisting and stretching.

 **Sherlock:**  
"I will take charge whenever you want me to, you know that. You just have to tell me. I can't read social cues like you do." The conversation comes to an end when he pulls his fingers out and I feel the head of his large cock nudge my opening. Four fingers would be the normal prep but he knows I like it when it burns a bit.

 **Greg:**  
My hands settle on Sherlock's hips as I rock slowly against him, each stroke a little deeper, a little harder. I lean my forehead breathlessly against his shoulder. "God dammit, cub... you're tight... you feel... incredible..." I mumble.

 **Sherlock:**  
I rock back against him to try to get him to go deeper but instead he just goes slower. "Please, Gregory, stop teasing me. I need to feel you in me. Make me feel you fill me up. I want you to fuck me so hard I'll feel it for days. I need it. I need to feel. I need you to make me feel."

 **Greg:**  
"Patience, Sherlock... I don't want to hurt you..." I press all the way into him in one long, slow stroke. The feel of his arse clenching and flexing around me pushes me closer to the edge. I start to move, pulling nearly all the way out before shoving back into him, just hard enough to make his knees shake. "Better?" I ask as I nip his shoulder blade hard.

 **Sherlock:**  
My eyes tear up a bit at the force of the stretch that his massive rod. I nod my head vigorously in answer to his question. His thrusts go from slow to fast without any particular rhythm. I grab my own dick tightly to keep myself from coming too quickly.

 **Greg:**  
Keeping one hand on his hip, I run my other hand up his body, stopping to pinch and twist at his pebbled nipples, making him jump and arch, bringing the most erotic noises out of him. I brush my hand down his arm, following it to his hand, pulling it away from his dick as he whimpers. With a firm grip on his wrist, I bring his hand up behind him - not hard enough to hurt, but just enough so he recognizes who is in control. "I can give you what you need, cub..." I thrust up into him hard. "... can make you feel..." another rough thrust. That familiar curl in my groin makes me groan.

 **Sherlock:**  
"I'm not going to last long, kit." The alcohol and pot had made me quite loose of limb. Combine that with his DI tone and having me in a similar position to a standard search procedure had me leaking copious amounts of precum. His cock was reaching so far inside me I could've felt it if my hand had been free to press down on my stomach. "Full. So full."

 **Greg:**  
"Then cum for me, cub..." I grunted in his ear, my thrusts getting rougher, my fingers curling and digging into his hip.

 **Sherlock:**  
My release sprayed the shower wall. I called out his name long and loud. "Gregory..." I could feel the vibration of my orgasm transfer from me to him. I clenched my arse as tight as possible to lengthen his release.

 **Greg:**  
His muscles ripple around my dick, tipping me over the edge. "Fuck, Sherlock..." I groan out, grabbing his hips with both hands and shoving into him hard as I cum. His arse clamps down on me, almost painfully tight, just extending the sensation for me. I lean my forehead on his shoulders, gasping to catch my breath as we both relax and I slip out of him. The shower water has started to cool - damn small water heater - so we both clean up and rinse off quickly and step out. I pull on my dressing gown while Sherlock just walks into the bedroom nude, settling himself on my bed expectantly.

 **Sherlock:**  
Before he has a chance to sit down I tell, er ask, Greg to grab me a bottle of water. He returns and flops down on the covers. With one hand over his eyes he doesn't see me get up to shut off the light.

 **Greg:**  
I'm tired - not surprisingly, considering the events of the evening, and the fact that sunrise is only a couple of hours away. After handing Sherlock the bottle of water he asked for, I open one for myself and drank it down quickly. I lay back on the bed with a sigh, my eyes closed, as I relax into the fluffy covers. I feel the bed shift, hearing a rustle of the linens, and when I open my eyes again, the room was dark. I feel Sherlock slip back into bed alongside me, and he wraps his arms and legs around me - typical for him.

 **Sherlock:**  
It was obvious Greg needed comfort for some reason. The alcohol and pot was finally wearing off. Some feelings of insecurity nagged at me. Did I behave ok? Did I say anything wrong? Was I too... Well, too _me_ tonight? The effects of Hudders’ honey cakes had dulled my memory.

 **Greg:**  
I wrap an arm around Sherlock, squeezing him tightly to me. "Stop thinking, cub." I whisper and kiss the top of his head. My fingertips stroke down his back lovingly.

 **Sherlock:**  
"What if I can't?" I whisper into the dark.

 **Greg:**  
"You can... trust me. What's on your mind, anyway?"

 **Sherlock:**  
"You. John. Me." It's easier to say some things in the dark.

 **Greg:**  
"So, thinking about us individually, or all of us together? Because I think about all of us together quite a bit, if I'm honest."

 **Sherlock:**  
I snuggle in closer to kit. "Both. Together and alone." I choke a bit on the word alone.

 **Greg:**  
I feel him tense up under my arm. "You're not alone, Sherlock..."

 **Sherlock:**  
I grasp him tightly. "I know. Sometimes I just don't believe it..." I feel a kiss on my forehead. Kisses I can believe in. "What do you think about us? All of us? John and you? John and I? John or me?"

 **Greg:**  
I play with his curls while I stare up at the ceiling in the dark. "You know, half the Yard thought you two were an item since the beginning - me included. I could just see it in how you two looked at each other, moved around each other. I was jealous - my ex-wife and I didn't have that. Never did, really." I take a deep breath. "Then after the divorce, I tried to get back in the game. No dice. When you two invited me home that night... I just couldn't believe my luck. Now that we're all together, I feel like I belong." I kiss him on top of the head again. "I feel loved. What I had before wasn't love. What I have with you and John... what we have together... is love."

 **Sherlock:**  
With those words now resting front and center in a permanent loop in my Mind Palace I fall asleep peacefully.


	5. Chapter 5

**Greg:**  
I roll over, burying my nose in Sherlock's curls with a grin. "Mmmmm..." I wrap my arm around his warm body and pull him close.

 **Sherlock:**  
I wake to the sensation of Greg's morning wood press against my arse. "Greg," I whisper but get no response. "Greg," I whisper louder but still no response. I slowly turn over in his arms and see his face is still lax in sleep. I run my finger over his jaw and whisper his name one last time. My only response is him moving to lay on his back. Once free of the entanglement of his arms I get up and start a pot of coffee. Despite how I act, I do know my way around basic appliances.

As the coffee brews I return to the room. He moans in his sleep and his semi-hard penis becomes fully erect. He moves around a bit, enough to uncover his torso from the blankets. I slowly lower myself next to him to wake him up properly.

 **Greg:**  
"Mmmmm" I groan. Warm, wet... the swipe of a tongue. "Sherlock... what do you think you're doing?" I mumble sleepily.

 **Sherlock:**  
I don't know what he's dreaming but I know what I'm thinking now. I pull aside the blanket covering his groin and lick a warm stripe on the dimple where his hip meets the stomach. He hides it under his frumpy suits, but he still has the abs of a twenty-five years old. He doesn't wake so I continue my journey and move on to exhaling hot breath on the head of his penis.

 **Greg:**  
I shiver when the blanket fell away - the room was chilly. Then I felt a warm tongue, and warm breath, and a warm hand rubbing over my thighs...

 **Sherlock:**  
I can tell he's leaving REM sleep so hurry up my game plan. I suck the head of his monster phallus into my mouth and start a suckling motion. After he bucks up I put both hands on his hips to keep him from choking me.

 **Greg:**  
I arch my back into the warmth I'm feeling but find my hips won't move. I reach down and grab a handful of curls.

 **Sherlock:**  
I moan when he grabs my curls. The vibration causes him try to move his hips again, so I press down tighter.

 **Greg:**  
I whimper and try to twist my hips away from the pressure on them.

 **Sherlock:**  
I exhale out and bring even more of Greg into my mouth. At well over two-inches around and over nine inches long the thought of deep-throating seems impossible, but I've determined to try. When I can bob almost half his penis in and out my mouth I feel him start to become alert.

 **Greg:**  
I feel the warmth envelop me, and slowly open my eyes, looking down to see Sherlock making a valiant effort to take as much of my cock into his mouth as he can. I gently run my fingers through his curls, and a quiet moan of pleasure escapes me.

 **Sherlock:**  
The rich aroma of coffee fills the air so much that I can swear I taste it under Greg's natural flavor. Now that he's awake, I let go of his hips so that I can focus on stroking his shaft.

 **Greg:**  
I can feel my dick hitting the back of his throat, and try not to thrust up into that slick, hot mouth of his... to let him be in control. I continue petting his curls, while my free hand is wrapped up tightly in the sheet beside me

 **Sherlock:**  
Unable to get more than 12cm in my mouth I growl in frustration. I'll have to keep practicing but for now I rotate between bobbing the half I can fit in my mouth and stroking up to the head with my hands. The precum and saliva have made for a smooth glide.

 **Greg:**  
Between his wicked tongue and his skillful hands, I'm not going to last much longer. My breathing becomes more ragged.

 **Sherlock:**  
I stop trying to get too much in my mouth. Instead I focus in the head, licking the slit and the vein right underneath. His grasp on my hair gets tighter I speed up my strokes on his shaft.

 **Greg:**  
I let out a breathy moan, arching my back and thrusting up into his hand, whining when he lets me slip out of that lovely mouth. His tongue swirling over my shaft - little kitten licks around the head - makes me want his mouth on me even more. "Suck me, Sherlock... I want to feel the back of your throat..." I groan.

 **Sherlock:**  
I can't help but look up at him and grin. He has a blissed out look similar to the one he had while high. He's playing with his nipples when he registers that I haven't moved for a few moments. Gregory lifts his head and looks at me finally. I keep eye contact as I suck down a bit more than half his total length. When the tip hits the back of my throat I swallow so he can feel compression on its head.

 **Greg:**  
When he swallows, it takes all my self-control to not cum on the spot. "Yes... like that... stroke me with that beautiful throat, Sherlock..."

 **Sherlock:**  
I hmm in acknowledgment of the praise. I swallow again a few times in quick succession while still stroking the shaft tightly. I spread the spit that has leaked down to his balls to lube my finger when I press into his perineum. Having no hands left to hold his hips when he bucks I choke and gag just a bit while my air way was clogged. "Mmmmmmm"

 **Greg:**  
My fingers continue to card through his hair, all the while taking care not to push him any further onto my cock. I gasp when he hums lightly, the vibration caressing me, sending shivers through me like lightning. His fingers curling behind my balls sends me hurtling over the edge, and I thrust up into his throat as I cum.

 **Sherlock:**  
I swallow down as much as I can. The little that leaks out I lick up. He quickly becomes over-sensitive and nudges me away from his deflating member. I climb up his body before I playfully kiss all over his face and lick the scruffiest part of his jaw line.

 **Greg:**  
"You are a fantastic alarm clock, love," I smile sleepily, catching his lips for a long, soft kiss.

 **Sherlock:**  
"I'm the best alarm clock you mean." I lay down next to Greg and stretch out. "Go get me some of the coffee that I graciously made. While you're up, grab a few of Hudder's ginger snaps you think you've hidden so well.

 **Greg:**  
I kiss him on the temple, and slide out of bed, grabbing my dressing gown as I walk into the kitchen, pouring coffee and getting a plate of ginger snaps out of the freezer. Carrying it all back into the bedroom, I smile at Sherlock, stretched out over the entire bed, half-asleep.

 **Sherlock:**  
Only mostly asleep I mumble something about last night. When Greg asks me to speak clearer I turn onto my back. "What did we do last night? I remember most of everything but some memories appear out of reach."

I open my mouth in silent request of a biscuit.

 **Greg:**  
I grin and shake my head, and taking a seat on the edge of the bed, hold a ginger snap to his lips. He reaches up and grabs it with his teeth, narrowly missing my fingers. "Hey! No biting the hand feeding you..."

 **Sherlock:**  
"Don't blame me. I'm hungry and you made me wait. Now, what happened last night?" I make grabby hands for the coffee.

 **Greg:**  
"Well... we had a few drinks... there was some public sex... desserts... and we were stoned as hell... Jesus, Sherlock...."

 **Sherlock:**  
I put my arm over my eyes in an attempt to block out the memories that flood back to me. "John is going to kill me. Ugh. Hudders will bring me back just so she can kill me." I sneak a peek at a giggling DI. "I wouldn't laugh too much, if I were you. Once I'm dead, they’ll come for you."

 **Greg:**  
"John isn't going to kill us. He might not leave us unsupervised again, though. As for Mrs. Hudson, _I'm_ not the one who broke into her flat and stole her special biscuits..." I grin at him, popping a ginger snap into my mouth.

 **Sherlock:**  
"You’re making fun of a dead man walking, Lestrade. Is that any kind of way to treat--" oh. Oh no! Goodness No!! I jump from the bed and into the living room.

 **Greg:**  
"What is it, Sherlock?" I watch as his naked arse flies into the living room.

 **Sherlock:**  
I find my Belstaff on the other side of the couch. I put it on then start assiduously peeking into the pockets.

 **Greg:**  
I walk into the living room. "What's wrong? And don't you want to put on some clothes?  Not that I mind you naked..."

 **Sherlock:**  
I know I appear crestfallen but there's no way to hide my sadness and repulsion at finding the messy remains of at least three different desserts in my pockets. "I was unaware London had a dessert by the plate cafe until last night."  I wonder if we left or were kicked out. Those memories are still somewhat hazy.

 **Greg:**  
"And I'm pretty sure we couldn't find it again if we tried."

 **Sherlock:**  
"Maybe if we recreated the exact actions that lead to finding it in the first place..." I shrug.

 **Greg:**  
"All I remember is we left your flat on foot and ended up at that dessert place... 45 minutes away from here. I couldn't retrace those steps sober, and I'd rather not steal more of Mrs. H's biscuits to figure it out... we'll end up in Warsaw.”

 **Sherlock:**  
"Yes, you're quite right. We're in enough trouble as it is." I pull the remains of what once was a peach pie, a lemon custard - judging by the smell - and the crumbling pieces of some unknown dessert.

 **Greg:**  
I pull the Belstaff off of Sherlock's shoulders. "Let's drop this by a dry cleaner this afternoon, yeah?" I carefully hang the coat by the door. I put my arms around his waist. "Want some breakfast?" I nip his ear.

 **Sherlock:**  
"What the Hell was that?" I hold up the crumbs of the anonymous treat for Greg to identify as he leads me to the kitchen.

 **Greg:**  
"I'm almost afraid to ask... maybe cheesecake?"

 **Sherlock:**  
"French toast, fresh honey, and tea." Greg stares at me with hands in his hips before I realize I forgot something. "Ugh Please."

 **Greg:**  
I shake my head with a laugh and get started on breakfast. "I don't have any fresh honey - no bee hives on my roof, you know... and I'm not sure what I've got any decent tea. But French toast, I can make."

 **Sherlock:**  
I get up and reach to the top most shelf in the cupboard. "Here. Honey from the hive we found in Scotland. Now feed me." I sit back down at the breakfast bar. "Don't forget the tea."

 **Greg:**  
I flip on the kettle, and rummage around in the cupboards looking for tea, finding a few boxes and setting them in front of Sherlock. "Pick one - it's all I've got." I then turn to the worktop and start making French toast.

 **Sherlock:**  
I blow dust off the boxes and eye the packets inside. "Coffee will be fine." I was hoping I'd get some sort of reaction to the reveal of the honey. Not only did I have to refine it, but I also had to procure entrance into this bleak flat AND come up with a reasonable need for it.

 **Greg:**  
"You can't put honey in coffee, Sherlock... I'd hate for you to have wasted all that effort." I knew he'd been in my flat recently - either borrowed John's key, or just picked the lock.

 **Sherlock:**  
"It will be perfect for the bacon that you're almost about to overcook." The pan starts to sizzle and smoke a bit.

 **Greg:**  
"Shit..." I turn to the frying pan and pull it off the heat, then scoop the very crispy bacon out of it. "I never claimed to be a chef, only that my cooking wouldn't poison you." I wink at him with a grin.

 **Sherlock:**  
"I wouldn't poison you either." Pfft. Least not unintentionally. I put cream and sugar in the coffee he hands me. The caffeine will be required to repair 221B today. "We should be able to clean the flat after you talk to Mrs Hudson about the disappearance of her honey cakes."

 **Greg:**  
"Oh, no you don't... I'm doing no such thing. I'll help you clean up your flat before she gets back, but no way in hell am I taking the fall for those cakes."

 **Sherlock:**  
I give him my best puppy dog eyes. "Will you at least pretend to know nothing if she asks you anything?" I hope my assumption that the gas has dissipated is correct. The resulting dust may be a problem, but we have hazmat clean up equipment on hand.

 **Greg:**  
"That, I can do. I can honestly say I have no memory of you getting the cakes, anyway." I scratch my head. "That was a tiny part of one crazy night." I finish the French toast, and plate a few slices for each of us, along with some bacon. "Here you go! Breakfast is served." I put a plate in front of him ceremoniously and take a seat with my own plate.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sherlock:  
** I take a small bite of the French toast. The flavor is full and wonderful and meltingly perfect. It doesn't even need honey. I eat my meal and quicker than Greg, so I start stealing bites from his plate. "This is wonderful. Who...? How...? You must teach me." Now. Teach me now so I can have more, now.

 **Greg:  
** "Oi! I'll make you more... just let me finish my own first..." I pull my plate out of his reach. "I'll even give you the recipe if you ask nicely."

 **Sherlock:  
** Pfft why should I have to ask nicely?! "I don't want the recipe, Graham, I want more toast." I lean close to him as if I'm going to kiss him... then snatch the last bite off his plate. I gaze at him while licking the syrup from my fingers. "You and John are always telling me to eat more." That last bite seemed to be enough and I’m pleasantly full now.

 **Greg:  
** I roll my eyes as he steals the last piece off my plate. "Really, Sherlock? Don't you ever cook at home?"

 **Sherlock:  
** "John says non-edible experiments and anything ending in an explosion doesn't count."

 **Greg:  
** "Well, he's right. Does he cook, then? Or do you two really subsist on crisps and take-away?"

 **Sherlock:  
** "We have...." I shrug, "... plenty of menus to choose from." If, er when, Greg leaves this hovel he can cook for us. Poor Angelo.

 **Greg:**  
"Sheesh... what am I going to do with you two." I shake my head, grabbing the empty plates and rinsing them quickly in the sink. "Go get dressed, and we'll head over to Baker Street and get to work, eh?"

 **Sherlock:**  
Seeing a chance to delay cleaning, I wrap Greg up from behind and lay my head on his shoulder. "Yes, whatever are you going to do with us..."

 **Greg:**  
"Sherlock..." I pull at his arms, trying to extricate myself. "Quit stalling. The faster we get over there, the faster we're done."

 **Sherlock:**  
Pfft ugh "fine." I smack his arse and quickly leave the kitchen, so we can drop my poor coat off for the Murpheys to do their dry cleaning magic. "Do you think Murphey’s could dry clean the flat?"

 **Greg:**  
I laugh. "No, it doesn't work that way. A little housework will not kill you. I've been doing it for years."

 **Sherlock:**  
"Oh is that why your hair turned grey so young?"

 **Greg:**  
"I think you're responsible for at least half of these grey hairs."  I walk into the bedroom and pull jeans and a t-shirt out of the closet, quickly getting dressed.

 **Sherlock:**  
"You were going grey BEFORE we met." I stroke his hair back behind his ear. "I'm responsible for it turning the dull grey into the beautiful silver color. You can thank me by taking care of the fridge. I'm fairly sure the gas didn't emanate from there."

 **Sherlock:  
** "I'm fairly sure there's nothing dangerous in there."

 **Greg:  
** "Fairly sure... yeah, that sounds about right for your flat. Let's go, then." I grab my coat and wait by the door.

 **Sherlock:  
** By the time we arrive back at Baker St most of my hangover was gone, as well as the smell that drove me away from it. "John keeps a box marked 'Sherlock Made A Mess' in his old room. Fetch it while I remove the offending experiment." Instead of doing as politely requested, Greg stands there with a hand on his hip giving me a wonderful impersonation of John. "Umm. Please?" With that he heads up the stairs.

 **Greg:  
** I shake my head at him and charge up the stairs to get the box. By the time I return to the kitchen, he's managed to get rid of the foulest parts of the experiment, at least

 **Sherlock:  
** "That was disgusting. In the future, I will boil the bladders before I inject them with the various solutions. Do you know if Molly has any recent dead bodies?" The kitchen counter is now clean. Well maybe not _clean_ clean but clean enough.

 **Greg:**  
I cringe at the mental image. " I have no idea, Sherlock - I expect she gets bodies in all the time. You just have to call her and ask." I take a look at the counters and frown, grabbing a pair of dishwashing gloves and some scrubbing powder to tackle it again. We needed to get this clean to John standards, not Sherlock's.

 **Sherlock:**  
"You should know if she has new bodies. Any interesting deaths lately?" If there was an interesting murder I would know about it. Sadly, London's criminal element have been lazy lately.

 **Greg:**  
"It's been pretty quiet the past couple of weeks, actually. Tryin' not to get used to it..." I mumble, setting about to thoroughly scrubbing the unidentifiable bits of crust off the worktop.

 **Sherlock:**  
I heard a heelllloooo from the entry way. "Crap. It's Hudders. Act innocent." I open the door and look down the stairs at Martha. "Mrs Hudson. Beautiful as ever. Quite busy. We'll catch up later. Ok? Ok. Good bye."

 **Greg:**  
" _Act_ innocent? I'm not the one who got past her door lock and went into her flat." I grin at him. I finish rinsing off the counter, and throw the dish rag into the sink. "Let's open up a few windows and air the place out, too." I snap off the yellow gloves, tucking them in my pocket as I head to the living room to start opening windows.

 **Sherlock:**  
"You are just as at fault as me. _Who_ was it that John said not to let me get up to no good?  _Who_ was it that let me get up to no good?" I cross my arms after I open the last window. " _Who_ besides me, ate Hudder’s honey cakes? Hmm"

 **Greg:**  
"Pfft. I bet even John hasn't managed to keep you out of trouble for a whole week. I can't be blamed for having trouble doing it. Speaking of John, when is he coming home?

 **Sherlock:**  
"He said it would be later this evening. For the record, I have gone weeks without getting into trouble."

 **Greg:**  
"Just because nobody hauled you down to the station doesn't mean you didn't get in trouble, Sherlock. Just means that you have friends in high enough places to keep you out of lock up." I wink at him. I look around the flat to see what else needs to be cleaned. I'm sure John would appreciate it. "Why don't you put fresh sheets on the bed, and I'll start cleaning the bathroom.”

 **Sherlock:**  
I grumble at Gregory’s statement. It's true but there's no reason to agree with him out loud. He may start thinking he's always right. "Fine. Where does John keep the sheets? I'd ask Mrs. Hudson but it's best I not disturb her for a few more days at least.”

 **Greg:**  
I point to the linen closet. "I'd look there first" I say, turning toward the bathroom while pulling on the gloves again.

 **Sherlock:**  
I open the closet that I was sure held the water heater. Turns out it holds linens. Interesting. "Purple or Green?"

 **Greg:**  
"John likes purple, so go with those." I reply while diligently scrubbing out the tub

 **Sherlock:  
** A few hours pass and Gregory finally deems we are done. "John will be convinced I've killed someone. The flat has never been this clean."

 **Greg:  
** I look around with a satisfied smile. "Yeah, I think you're right. I know I've never seen it this clean. I'll vouch for the fact you didn't kill anyone, if he asks." I flop onto the sofa. "Come sit with me, Sherlock. Take a break." I pat the sofa next to me, and he lands there, draping himself over me and the sofa. In short order, we've both started to doze off.

* * *

 **John:**  
Trudging up the stairs to our flat excited to show Sherlock what I brought back from my trip to Berlin, I notice everything seems too quiet. As I enter the sitting room I look around and see it in the cleanest state I have ever encountered, and then I notice Sherlock and Greg are cuddled up on the sofa and fast asleep. I quietly set down my bags and close the door behind me before tip-toeing over to them. I lean down over the armrest and kiss first Greg on the temple before doing the same to Sherlock, which wakes him. He smiles up at me and pulls Greg closer to him with the arm that is wrapped around him, which wakes Greg as well.

"Hello loves! I see you've had a busy day," and indicate to the state of the room. "Wanna come in the bedroom and see what I brought us back from an exciting little shop I found in Berlin?" and they both perk up the suggestion that my 'souvenirs' are for the bedroom. I stumbled onto the Schwarzer Reiter shop on the free afternoon I had during the conference while out looking for a boutique honey shop to bring back some new varieties for Sherlock to taste. If I had had Mycroft's credit card with me at the time, I might have shipped home the entirety of both stores.


End file.
